


Tell Me

by imagining_supernatural



Series: Tell Me [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: College, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Smut, Sam Fucking Winchester, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15104078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagining_supernatural/pseuds/imagining_supernatural
Summary: Sam has this habit of distracting you every time he comes to visit. Working out more, forgetting to wear a shirt, you know the drill. But what happens when he finds a way to distract you when you’re in class as well?





	1. Tell Me

          “How about that homework last night?” Jonathan asked, sliding into his normal seat beside you.

          “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Nelly groaned, turning in her chair to talk to you two. “Lil and I worked on it for six hours and we still don’t know if we did it right.”

          “Right?” You agreed emphatically, getting war flashbacks to your battles with the case study and your excel spreadsheet. “I swear, we haven’t even learned half of the stuff it was asking us to do.”

          Rhetta pushed her chair closer and you fought to hold back your eye-roll. Here comes her self-righteous, better-than-you speech. “Actually, we learned about the regression analysis last week, and it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to answering question five from there.”

_How about you just hop, skip, and jump away from us?_

          There was no way you would ever say that aloud, though. As a closed-off, borderline-shy person, you avoided conflict at all costs, and telling Rhetta to get lost would just light her fuse and it would only be a matter of time before you got in a fight.

          When no one replied, Rhetta just smirked and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “ _I_  thought it was easy, at least.”

          “At least one of us feels good about it,” you finally said. That satisfied her need to feel superior, and she finally rolled away. Nelly and Jonathan started discussing the assignment, sharing their woes. You were about to jump in when you heard an all-to-familiar voice, causing your head to snap over towards the teacher.

          “Hi there, I’m Doctor Peralta. I believe you got my email about observing your class today?”

          Standing there, introducing his fake self to your professor was none other than Sam Winchester. He caught your eye and winked, instantly dousing your face in pink blush. When your professor responded to him, Sam looked away from you. Now that he wasn’t watching you, the coast was clear to check him out.

          Check him out to see if you could figure out why he was here, you meant. Not check him out, like  _check him out_.

          Though there was a fair amount of  _checking him out_  too, if you were being honest with yourself.

          And dammit all if your mouth felt dry just looking at him. You’d seen Sam Winchester many times since Bobby took you in after your parents died, but you’d never seen him in a suit. The stark white shirt playing against his slightly tanned skin and the dark grey suit coat stretching across his shoulders. From the many times he’d walked around Bobby’s shirtless, doing pushups on the living room floor, or helping Bobby on the cars, you knew that the shoulder pads weren’t doing much padding. That man was all muscle.

          His fingers— _god,_  his fingers—started undoing the button on his suit coat, and your eyes snapped back to his. Your eyes locked onto his again, and your face inflamed even more at being caught checking him out. Just as he always did when he caught you staring, he tilted his head a little and raised his eyebrows as if asking a question. But he wasn’t asking a question. He just knew that calling you out made you even more embarrassed, and that was apparently his mission in life.

          “Who is  _that_?” Rhetta asked, once again asserting herself into your group.

          The way she was staring at Sam, like he was going home with her tonight, lit a fire within you. She had no right to be looking at Sam like that. Sure, he wasn’t yours. But he sure  _as hell_  wasn’t hers.

          “You don’t know who that is?” By the tone of your voice, everyone could tell that you thought the answer was obvious. “Seriously, Rhetta? That’s Doctor Peralta.”

          “Doctor Peralta?”

          “Yeah.” Time to concoct a backstory that hopefully wouldn’t clash with the one that Sam had prepared for himself. “Doctor Peralta. He’s, like, the most sought after business consultant in the Northern Hemisphere. He’s consulted Google and Berkshire and Koch and Apple.”

          Her eyes narrowed. While she thought through your explanation, you glanced back over at Sam just in time to see him laugh at something your professor said to him and Sam Winchester’s laugh, well, it wound its way into your body and sent the neurons firing.

          Class today was going to be a disaster. There was no way you would be able to focus for the rest of the day.

          “I can’t find him on Google,” Rhetta snottily drew your attention back to her.

          For once you knew something she didn’t. So as your professor got everyone’s attention, you whispered something back to her, knowing that it would drive her crazy. She prided herself on always being able to find the answer. She always had to be right. Well, not this time. “Maybe you’re just spelling his name wrong.”

          Your victory over Rhetta, knowing that she would be too proud to ask how to spell his name, was briefly lived, since Sam commanded your attention once again, and in your weird friendship, he had all the power whether he knew it or not.

          “Class, this is Doctor Peralta. He will be observing our class today for his research.”

          “Research?” Rhetta whispered to you. “Not consulting. Looks like you don’t know anything either.”

          Sam caught your eye as he began his mini-speech, flicking his gaze behind you to Rhetta for a moment. “Hi, everyone. As your professor said, I’m Doctor Peralta. I’m taking a sabbatical from my consulting work to research several graduate programs around the nation. Just pretend like I’m not here and do whatever you do. Don’t let the fact that I’ll be watching you distract you from your schoolwork.”

          Of course he would say that last part to you. He kept his eyes on you dangerously longer than necessary, considering there were twenty other students in the classroom.

          As class started, Sam took an empty seat in the back of the room, directly across from you. These U-shaped classrooms were great for classroom discussion, but not so good at avoiding someone’s gaze.

          You tried to pay attention. You really did. But your professor wasn’t remotely as interesting as watching Sam take off his jacket and sling it across the back of the empty chair next to him. You couldn’t focus on practice problems when Sam’s white dress-shirt did absolutely  _nothing_  to hide the ripple of his muscles every time he moved.

          Finally you had to completely turn to face the board, rest an elbow on the table beside you, and use your hand to shield your vision from Sam. For a good three minutes, you managed to at least keep your eyes on the board. And you were finally starting to get back into the groove when your phone vibrated.

**Sam:**  Hey

          Dammit. You dropped your hand and looked over at him, only to see that he was purposefully looking at anyone else but you. And it  _was_ on purpose. You knew it from the smile he was barely holding back.

**Y/N:** What are you doing here?

**Sam:** Hunt. Ghost.

          That was highly unlikely. This building was the newest on campus. There were dozens of other, much older buildings.

          You made a show of putting your phone in your backpack and went back to trying to ignore Sam. Which was a complete failure, you might add. You could feel Sam’s eyes on your skin every single time he looked at you. Even from across the room, you could swear that you heard the  _tap, tap, tap_  of his laptop keys as he typed out his fake notes. And dammit all if he looked amazing, even in these harsh fluorescent lights.

          Finally class ended and chatter started up as everyone started packing away their books and papers. You slowly slid your binder into your bag, keeping Sam in the corner of your eyes at all times. He wasn’t about to catch you off-guard.

          You tracked him as he prowled towards you. When he stopped in front of you and tapped his fingers on the table, you looked up at him.

          “Miss Y/L/N, it’s good to see you again.”

          Okay. That’s the story he was going with. Apparently Y/N Y/L/N had known Doctor Peralta from sometime in the past. Time to play along. “You too, Doctor Peralta. How’s your brother doing?”

          “Good, good. He’s just working the job, you know. And your dad?”

          “Asks about you every time I talk to him.” That wasn’t a lie. The Winchesters often came up in conversation with you and Bobby, your only living father figure. “You really helped him out.”

          “Excuse me,” Rhetta inserted herself in. “Doctor Peralta, I’m Rhetta Esquire. I’m the number one ranked student in the program. If you have any questions, I would love to help you with your research.”

          Sam barely acknowledged her. “Thank you. But I was actually hoping that Miss Y/L/N would be available?”

          “How do you two know each other?” Rhetta asked, not giving you a chance to answer Sam.

          “Oh, we go way back,” Sam replied, winking at you. You averted your eyes, yelling at yourself to get it together!

          Whatever. Two can play at this game. You were in grad school for crying out loud. Cutthroat, pushy, grad school. You could definitely handle Sam Winchester.  

          “Yeah. You should’ve seen Peralta here try and change his nephew’s diaper for the first time. No one told him that baby boys become fountains as soon as the diaper comes off. His hair smelled like pee for days.”

          “Aww, you have a nephew?” Rhetta latched onto the image of Sam with a baby and—dammit! Now you couldn’t get that image out of your head. It was crowding its way into the portion of your brain where all of your shirtless Sam memories danced around with the relaxed Sam who was laughing with a bottle of beer in his hand. Now there was the image of Sam with his fake nephew, cooing and being generally adorable thrown in the mix and your fantasies suddenly became bigger.

          Well, your plan to play game backfired magnificently.

          “Yeah,” Sam tossed an amused glare your way. “He’s adorable when he’s not screaming.”

          “Anyway, I have to get to my next class. It starts in a few minutes.” You had to get away from Sam for your own sanity. “I’ll call you after I get off work tonight and you can ask me your questions then?”

          Then Sam smirked and your stomach sank. “Sure. But can you point me towards room 483? I need to observe Professor Braker’s class next.”

          There was absolutely  _no_ way that this was for a case. No way in hell. If it was for a case, then Sam wouldn’t be following you around. Still, as it was, you had to give him a tight smile since Rhetta was still there. “Sure thing. I’ll take you there.”

          Like the true gentleman that he was, Sam grabbed your backpack and slung it across a shoulder. As soon as you were in the crowded, noisy hallway with Sam’s hand resting lightly on your back, you hissed up at him. “Sam, what the hell?”

          “I told you. A hunt.”

          “For a ghost in the newest building on campus? I think you’re just stalking me.”

          “Now why would I do that?” He asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead. But there was still that infuriating smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

          “Whatever. I hope you like Strategic Supply Chain Management, because you’re about to spend two hours hearing all about it.”

          Sam pulled to a stop just outside of the classroom door and handed you your backpack back. So quickly that you were sure you just imagined it, he brushed his fingers along your cheek, pushing some of your hair out of your face. “Y/N, if you think I’m gonna be focusing on the lecture, you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

          And just like that, he was gone. With his words rattling around in your head, you followed him into the room and made your way to your normal seat. As you sat down, you aimed a calculating gaze at Sam as he introduced himself to your professor. What had he meant by that?

          “Greg?” You spun your chair towards your friend. “I have a favor to ask.”

          “One… second…” Greg finished typing whatever he was doing on his laptop before giving his full attention to you. “What’s up?”

          “I need you to flirt with me. I mean, not like, flirt-flirt. Just flirt. In a completely platonic way, you know? Like, not for real but—” Man, you were really murking this up.

          Luckily for you, Greg was a pretty laid back guy. He only got intense when you argued about the stock market. So he just appeared amused by your rambling rather than concerned. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

          With a sigh, you came up with as good an explanation as you could muster. “I need to test a theory. If you flirt with me and I flirt back, then I might make someone jealous. And then I’ll know if I’m right or not.”

          “Who?”

          “Don’t judge me,” you muttered. “It’s Doctor Peralta. That guy with Professor Braker. He’s an old family friend and I’m pretty sure that he’s spent the last few years, I don’t know, teasing me? Like, he’s always working out when he comes to visit. He’s not wearing a shirt more often than he is. He’s incredibly smart and he knows it, so he makes sure that I know it. And I think he knows that, well, I’m into guys like that.”

          Greg leaned back in his chair and watched Sam out of the corner of his eye for a moment, which meant that you did too. Sam’s soft chuckle galloped across the room and rained down on your skin.

          “Hey, Y/N,” Greg’s voice was slightly louder than it had just been. “What are you doing tonight?”

          Torn out of your Sam haze, you were a little confused at first. Then you remember that you, quite literally, had asked for this. “Nothing. Probably just putting of some homework. Why? You have a better idea?”

          “Yeah, I do.” Greg rolled his chair forward a little. “My friend just moved into town and we’re celebrating at that bar on fourth. Whaddaya say to being my date so I’m not the awkward third wheel to him and his wife?”

          “Oh, come on. You could never be a third wheel,” you reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm lightly.

          “Not with you there.” His head tilt and raised eyebrow in question.

          With a shy smile, you glanced down at your books for a moment before looking back at Greg, just as you would have if this had been him really asking you out. “Yeah. That sounds like fun.”

          “Almost as fun as our study sessions?”

          That one got a real laugh out of you. “Except with alcohol.”

          As your professor called the class to order, Greg pushed his chair closer, slung his arm across your shoulders and leaned in to whisper in your ear. “By the way, if you really wanna come tonight, you can. But I’ll take it as a bad sign if you show up because you’ve got that Peralta guy wrapped around your finger.”

          You immediately sought out Sam and noted the tight set of his jaw and the way he was pointedly not looking at you. Maybe Greg was right. Maybe  _you_  were right. Maybe Sam really was teasing you more than to just make you blush.

          So as soon as Sam started introducing himself and his purpose, you turned to whisper to Greg, purposefully keeping your face as close to his as you could. “I’m new to this… whole thing. How do I make my move without it being awkward?”

          “What am I, your love guru?”

          “Yes,” you said with fake seriousness. “As my friend and study buddy, it’s your duty to also be my love guru.”

          Rolling his eyes slightly, Greg considered for a moment. Then he smiled mischievously. “You ever see How I Met Your Mother?” When you nodded, he went on. “Naked man.”

          His unexpected suggestion coaxed a bark of laughter out of you, cutting Sam off. With a sheepish look, and trying to suppress your smile, you muttered a soft, “Sorry.”

          Sam kept his hazel eyes on you for a moment longer before wrapping up his introduction and taking a seat on the opposite side of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into you, but you turned your attention back to Greg.

          “I can’t do the naked man.” You tried to picture yourself waiting for Sam in your apartment, completely naked, but you just couldn’t. Hell, you needed help just to learn how to make a move. Waiting for a guy, completely naked was just way out of your comfort zone.

          Just then, you made the mistake of imagining Sam doing the naked man. You could picture it. The squeak of your door as you closed it behind you, twisting the lock. Walking into your room and being greeted with the glorious sight of Sam Winchester and that irresistible smirk that would be the only thing he was wearing.

          Your eyes wandered over to him and the way his muscles filled out his shirt. The way his hair brushed at the collar. The way his fingers tapped away at his laptop. And the way his eyes were burning into yours, seeing way too much.

          He cocked his head slightly, eyeing you thoughtfully.

          “Keep it in your pants until after class,” Greg whispered amusedly, jerking you away from your tunnel vision.

          “What?” At your question, Greg just gave you an  _are you kidding me_ look before turning his attention back to the lecture. Unfortunately for you, Sam chose that moment to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, keeping his eyes on you the whole damn time. There was no way you would be able to pay attention to the lecture today.

* * *

          The sound of your front door opening put you on high alert and you reached for where you had a gun hidden in your bathroom drawer, but then the voice that called out made you relax.

          “It’s just me!” Dean yelled. He quickly found his way to the bathroom where you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup. “Damn! You look hot, Y/N.”

          You tried to cover up your blush with a coy smile. “Thank you, Dean. Where’s Sam?”

          He leaned against the door jamb, dragging his eyes over your body appreciatively. Sure, Dean’s attention was unfamiliar and made you blush, but not to the degree that Sam’s attention did. “He’s getting something from the car. What’s up? You got a hot date tonight?”

          “Kind of,” you hedged, slowly untwisting your mascara wand.

          “Kind of? What kind of date is that?”

          You glanced at Dean’s reflection and saw that he was watching you carefully, trying to puzzle this situation out. As much as you would love to be confident in Greg’s assessment of your weird relationship with Sam, you trusted Dean’s opinion much more. Maybe it would be best to test out your theory on him before you made an utter fool of yourself in front of Sam.

          “I have a question.”

          “Shoot.” Dean shrugged off the wall and settled himself down on your toilet.

          How to phrase this? “What’s Sam like when I’m not around?”

          Dean just raised an eyebrow, asking for more information. You surrendered to the conversation, setting down the mascara and giving Dean your full attention. “Like, does he walk around shirtless as much as he does when you guys came to visit Bobby? Does he really work out as much as he does around me? Or is that just some sort of macho, show-off thing? And what is the deal with him stalking me in class today?”

          Just then the front door opened, closing your window of opportunity. Dean just laughed, stood up, and walked over until he was behind you. With a gentle hand on your waist and his lips at your ear, he winked at you in the mirror. “You have great instincts, Y/N. Trust in yourself.”

          “So I found some lore on—whoa.” Sam rounded the corner and came to a halt as soon as he saw you.

          Sam’s reaction and the wink that Dean threw your way just then set your face aflame and you quickly turned back to the mirror, trying to focus on your mascara. “You two sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”

          “Since Y/N has a hot date tonight, I’ll go grab us some grub,” Dean said. He wrapped his hand around your waist and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. As he pulled away, he whispered for your ears only. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

          You watched Dean walk away and felt a sudden rush of confidence. If Dean thought that you weren’t even going to make it out of your apartment, and Greg wasn’t expecting you to show up, then maybe Sam really was trying to go out of his way to impress you because he liked you.

          “You don’t think the dress is too drab?” You asked, turning to face him and holding your hands out to the side. You’d gone for a black, scoop neck dress with wide straps on the shoulders. The dress cut in at your waist, then flowed away in a skirt that was shorter in the front than in the back. From the front it was a perfectly acceptable daytime dress. But when you turned around, miles of skin on your back was showcased as the straps on the shoulder broke into smaller straps.

          The dress had been sitting in the back of your closet for nearly a year, ever since your friend convinced you to buy it even though you knew that you would never find the occasion to wear it.

          But now you were thanking her profusely.

          “Uh, no. Not drab at all.”

          While Sam dragged his eyes up your body—and you noted that he definitely took his time—you were trying to work up the courage to make a move. But when his eyes landed on yours, your mind suddenly went blank and you chickened out.

          Looks like you were going to be Greg’s date tonight.

          Trying not to let your disappointment in yourself show, you finished with your mascara and went back to fixing your hair. You’d curled it, then used a plethora of bobby pins to pin it up into an up-do that looked like it was natural, but still like you tried. However, the stupid bobby pins just wouldn’t keep your hair where you wanted it.

          “Here,” Sam stepped up behind you and you froze when the heat of his body brushed against your bare back. “Let me.”

          He snatched the pin from your fingers and you tried not to react too much as he gently pinned your hair in place, completely focused. Just feeling his fingers in your hair, brushing along your neck, resting on your bare shoulders…

          Then he took a step back and stark, cold air rushed between you. “Your date’s a lucky guy.”

_That_  made you mad. He sounded so forlorn and jealous and slightly annoyed. It was the tone of defeat. That was that moment that all of your shyness and careful instincts disappeared and you whirled around, pushing at Sam. Your movement caught him by surprise and he stumbled back a step until he hit the wall.

          “Screw you, Sam!”

          “E-excuse me?”

          “You don’t get to be jealous. You don’t get to be mad or annoyed or, or, or whatever the hell you’re feeling. You’ve spent  _years_  teasing me.  _Years_  making me blush and making me fall for you. And as soon as it looks like I’m into some other guy you roll over and give up? I give you a taste of your own medicine for less than a day—and a horrible taste of your own medicine, I may add because Lord knows that I can  _not_  flirt to save my life—and that’s it? You’re over it? So yeah. Screw you.”

          Fuming, you stalked out of the bathroom and headed to your room, aiming for the strappy heels you’d bought with the dress. Apparently you were just a game to Sam. As soon as you weren’t a fly caught in his trap anymore, he lost interest. As soon as it looked like you weren’t wrapped around his finger anymore, he didn’t care about you.

          Well, you know what? Maybe it was time to use your frustration and anger to actually live your life. Get out of your shell. Maybe Greg could help you with that. Help you loosen up.

          You grabbed your shoes and your keys and turned around, not even bothering to put the shoes on. You could do that later. Right now, all that you wanted to do was get away from this embarrassing situation. Eventually your brain was going to catch up to your mouth and you wanted to be far away and halfway drunk by the time that happened.

          Who knew that for three smart people, you, Greg,  _and_  Dean could all be so horribly wrong about Sam?

          When you turned to leave your room, Sam was standing in the doorway, blocking your exit.

          “Move.”

          “No.” He crossed his arms across his chest and you wondered if he purposefully flexed his muscles or if it was just natural.

          “I’m not gonna ask you nicely, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

          “Tell me that you want me to move.  _Tell_ me that you want to go to that stupid bar with that guy.  _Tell_  me that you don’t want to be here with me, alone in your apartment.” He slowly started walking forward, looking very much like a predator stalking its prey. Each word he spoke brought his voice closer to a growl, and you were frozen in place.

          “ _Tell_  me that you don’t want my hands all over your body.  _Tell_ me that you didn’t spend hours getting ready just for me.  _Tell_  me that you’d rather be at a dingy old bar rather than on your bed right there.”

          Your feet were glued to the floor when Sam came to a stop right in front of you. The fabric of his shirt barely brushed at your dress and he ghosted his hands over your arms and shoulders, not quite touching you. He lowered his head and you unconsciously lifted your chin until you could feel his forehead and nose bumping yours, his warm breaths cascading over your lips like a waterfall.

          “Tell me that you haven’t imagined what it would feel like. To have my fingers digging into your skin. To feel my lips on every single inch of your perfect body. To scream my name.”

          Sam pulled back and his eyes latched onto yours with a dangerous glint. “Tell me that’s not what you want. Then I’ll move.”

          The air was heavy like just before storm hits. You’d forgotten how to breathe, and your body yearned for Sam. You exhaled his name, barely moving the air, but it was enough to bring out Sam’s insufferable smirk.

          “I’ve seen you, you know,” he continued. “How you watch me when I work out. I’ve noticed the way your face heats up. I bet you want to feel me, don’t you?” One of his hands finally landed on you, brushing along the exposed skin of your back and you were so worked up by just his voice that it was a struggle to bite back your whimper. You weren’t about to let him win quite yet. “You want to feel my body holding yours down on the bed or against a wall or even on a table. You wanna feel the way I would move inside of you.”

          Your heart was already beating way too fast when Sam suddenly pressed against your back, sending you stumbling into his body. The soft fabric of your dress and thin tee-shirt he was wearing were flimsy barriers. Those firm, intoxicating muscles you’d spent hours memorizing over the years were hard against your soft curves. You brought your hands up to his waist for balance, though the way he was holding you wouldn’t have let you move anyway.

          Sam’s voice was little more than a growl at your ear as his fingers dug and massaged their way up your back. “I’d make you beg for it, Y/N. I’d bring you to the edge so many times until you couldn’t take anymore. Even then, I would take my time. Get to know your body. How you respond. The way you move. What feels good. What feels  _insanely_  good.”

          “Shit, Sam,” your voice was barely a whisper.

          “You think I’ve been a tease, Y/N?” He nipped at your jaw. “You have  _no_  idea what I’m capable of.” Then he suddenly stepped back and you nearly fell forward. In an almost normal voice, he continued. “You should go now. Don’t wanna keep your date waiting.”

          Honestly, you should. You should grab the shoes that you’d dropped sometime during that spectacle and walk right past him. Teach him that it’s mean to tease.

          “Screw you, Sam,” you snapped, closing the distance between you two and pulling his lips down to yours. He wasted no time in kissing you back. Sam’s hands were all over you, pulling and pushing and tugging and driving you crazy.

          You’d dreamt of those hands for years, but actually feeling the rough callouses and nimble muscles was so much better. And those lips… Lips that you’d watched explain a bit of lore thousands of times. Lips that drove you wild when they smirked every time he caught you staring. Lips that were stealing your oxygen away, demanding your attention, locking onto yours.

          He hooked his hands under your thighs and easily lifted you up. The world tilted as he spun around until you were pressed against the wall and Sam’s lips latched onto your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you noted that you wouldn’t be able to hide those marks in the morning, but in the moment you couldn’t care less. Sam’s hair was tangled in your fingers, your legs were wrapped around his waist, ankles hooked behind his ass, and he was grinding against you, making you forget about everything else.

          “Oh,  _God_ , Sam.”

          Sam pulled away with a dark, devilish grin. “Baby, you like that?” Your low groan when he rolled his hips against yours again was all the answer he needed. “I’m just getting started, Y/N. By the time I’m finished with you tonight, you’ll be feeling me for the rest of the week.”

          “Are you just teasing me, or can you back up those words?” You asked in a shaky voice.

          He chuckled humorously. “Patience, babe. We’ve got all night.”


	2. Now and Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens the morning after two friends sleep together for the first time? You start overthinking, of course!

          It had been a long time since I’d woken up feeling  _this_  good. Sure, I was used to waking up sore. It was kinda in the job description. But waking up sore because of a night like last night? Not to sound like a sap, but it was a night that I’d only dreamt of.

          Carefully, I rolled onto my side and couldn’t help my small smile when I caught sight of Y/N. We’d been friends since, well, it felt like forever. Bobby took her in years ago, and ever since the first time I saw her, I knew that I was a goner. However, the thought that I could ever be with a girl like her was so far out of reach. So I settled for admiring from afar.

          That all changed when I caught sight of her staring when I was helping Dean with his car one day. Or, rather, when Dean caught her staring at me and wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. His teasing had gotten in my head and I started thinking  _maybe_ …

          But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to quite make the jump yet. And seeing Y/N get flustered quickly became my favorite thing. I’d rather have a flustered friend and blue balls, than one night and a ruined friendship.

          Yesterday though… the scales  _definitely_  tipped. Y/N had gotten a little possessive over me and it was  _hot_. I’d been planning on just distracting her a bit during her classes, making her blush, the normal routine.

          Then she started flirting with her classmate…

          I was drawn out of my thoughts when she started waking up. Her small stretches made her body brush against mine and the small groans she made drove me crazy. She always drove me crazy.

          Memories of last night played over and over in my mind. I always thought that we’d both have to be a little tipsy to give us the courage to make the moves and finally sleep together. Yet here we were, completely naked in her bed, no hangover in sight. Every word, every touch, every sound. Nothing of last night was lost in a drunken haze.

          I reached out and lightly trailed my hand down from her shoulder, over her side, in the dip of her waist, until I could curl my fingers around her hip. Her soft, content moan went straight to my dick, and the way that she pressed backwards into my body certainly wasn’t helping matters.

          Then her muscles started tensing up and I knew that she was awake enough to be able to anticipate an awkward morning after between two friends who just slept together for the first time.

          But we could do that routine after I’d made her scream my name a few more times.

          “Morning,” I whispered wrapping my arm completely around her waist and pulling her further into my body as my lips pick up right where they left off last night in my attempt to map out her body.

          “Mmm, Sam.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a beautiful sound as Y/N moaning my name in a sleep-ridden voice.

          That’s when her phone started ringing, completely shattering the moment. She hurried to reach over and turn it off with a disappointed groan. “I have a group project I need to get to.”

          I almost gave in then.

          But then I remembered how she always sets her alarm with plenty of time to spare.

          And I remembered the arch of her back and her hands pulling my hair last night.

          I remembered her open mouth kisses on my skin while she fought for breath.

          And I knew I couldn’t let her go so easily that morning.

          “You have time,” I mumbled, exerting the smallest amount of pressure on her hip until she rolled over on her back. Wasting no time, I kissed her and it’s like my entire body was on fire. Oh, the things this woman does to me.

          Her hands were on my shoulders and I wasn’t sure if she was going to push me away or pull me closer.

          Well, I decided, it can’t hurt to make her decision easier. Biting her bottom lip softly, I climb on top of her, needing to feel her soft skin against mine. A satisfied grin slipped onto my lips when her legs fell open for me.

          “Screw it,” she groaned. “I can be late for once in my life.”

* * *

          “I am  _so_  sorry I’m late,” you apologized as you swept into the study room where the rest of your group was already settled in. “It’s been… a crazy morning.”

          Greg caught your eye and wiggled his eyebrows, making your face warm instantly. “I bet.”

          “You,” you said, pointing at him menacingly, “Shut your mouth.”

          “What happened this morning?” Bugs looked between you and Greg for a moment, but Greg wisely stayed silent, letting you play the moment how you wanted.

          “Nothing. The real question is what have I missed in the fifteen minutes I wasn’t here.”

          There was no way you were going to disclose to a group of your classmates any sexual details about your life. Especially since that one night (and brief morning) may have just ruined one of your dearest friendships. There hadn’t really been time to talk about the repercussions of the previous night (and morning) between you and Sam. You barely had time to jump in the shower, grab a granola bar, and get to campus. Your hair was still wet, and you hated leaving the apartment so frazzled.

          But it had been worth it. After all, if your friendship with Sam was going to die, better to go out with a bang.

          Pun intended.

          “Riiiight,” Bugs narrowed his eyes at you, sensing juicy details. No one knew how he’d gotten the nickname  _Bugs_  and no one could remember his real name. Both were details he refused to disclose. So it was only fair that you kept some secrets from him. ****

          While Jenny took over summarizing the beginning of the meeting, you settled into your seat and pulled out your notebook and laptop, setting everything up. For the next five minutes, you studiously ignored Greg’s pointed looks, and eventually he got back into the groove of the project.

          Then your phone buzzed.

          And you ignored it.

          You had to focus on the group project. If that was Sam texting you, then you couldn’t afford to be distracted.

          Supply chain analysis now. Winchester later.

          “So the next question on the case study is  _Why would Techron choose option one over option two?”_  You read the question aloud to get the group moving in the right direction.

          But what if Sam needed something? What if it was Dean? What if they really were on a hunt here and they needed your help?

          You hand inched towards your phone, but you pulled back at the last minute. They were the Winchesters. They could handle themselves. With a shake of your head, you turned back to your answer sheet.

          What if it was Bobby? Never mind that he never texted. He preferred calling. But if he was on a hunt and couldn’t talk, then maybe he was sending a 911 text.

          Your group shot around ideas for how to answer the question, and you mindlessly threw in a few comments, but your attention was on your phone and the unread text.

          Screw it. You wouldn’t be able to focus until you knew.

**Sam:** If I knew that showering after you would smell this good, I would have been doing it a lot sooner.

          Oh god. Sam was in your shower. Naked Sam with water dripping down his chest… wet hair a shade darker than usual…

          Supply Chain Management. Group Project Now.

          Winchester Later.

          But even as you tried to lasso your attention and yank it back to homework, your fingers itched to type a reply. You weren’t good at flirting in person, but you’d read plenty of books, so when you had a minute to actually think about a reply rather than coming up with something reactively, your mind knew what to do. And how you wanted to reply with something witty like  _Why wait until after I’m out?_ But you knew that you could  _never_  send a text like that.

          “Y/N,” Greg whispered, elbowing you. You immediately burst out of your thoughts and looked at him. He just grinned. “Who’re you texting?”

          “No one.” Defensively, you slid your phone back into your pocket without replying to Sam and made a point of scrolling through the PDF of the case study.

          Not five minutes later, you got another text.

**Sam:** Why do you have four different containers of Soy Sauce?

_That_  was an easier text to deal with. It was more like the old Y/N-and-Sam. The Y/N-and-Sam that you felt comfortable with.

**Y/N:** Why are you snooping through my fridge?

**Sam:** I’m hungry.

**Sam:** Your leftovers are growing mold on their mold.

**Sam:** Do you ever clean out your fridge?

          “Earth to Y/N,” Bugs waved his hand between you and your phone, jerking you back to the matter at hand. Group project now. Winchester later. “Interesting conversation?”

          “Yeah, sorry. It’s just—” how to explain this without letting on too much? “I have a few friends staying at my place and they’re trying to find edible food in my kitchen. Just give me a second.”

**Y/N:** Cereal is above the fridge and the milk doesn’t expire for another week. If it bugs you so much, maybe you should clean out my fridge ;) ****

          Might as well get something out of his complaining.

          Wait.

          Shit.

          You put a winky face.

          It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time since you slept together. That meant that it meant something different, right? Would Sam read too far into it? What if he thought  _clean out my fridge_  was some dirty code for something else? What  _was_  he thinking? What did  _he_  think it meant? What did  _you_  think it meant? What did you  _want_  it to mean?

          “Maybe we should take a ten minute bathroom break,” Greg suggested to the group. “I’m getting kind of burnt out.”

          “Me too,” Jenny chimed in immediately. The rest of the group agreed and all six of you filtered out of the study room. Once you were in the hallway, Greg guided you into an empty classroom and turned a smirk on you.

          “You look like someone just ran over your cat.”

          “I put a winky face,” you blurted out, comfortable sharing now that it was just you and your friend.

          “And?”

          “And I put a  _winky face.”_ How was he not getting this? “Before, it was just a thing that I used when I was joking, but we  _slept together_  last night. It’s not just a winky face. It’s a  _winky face.”_

          Greg shook his head, laughing. “Man, I have never seen you so crazy before.”

          “I’m not—” You huffed as you cut yourself off. “Greg, it’s not funny! Sam’s one of my closest friends. He’s…” Greg didn’t know Sam as the hunter. He knew him as Dr. Peralta. You needed to stick to the cover story. “…He’s a great mentor and now I’ve gone and slept with him and it changed everything and I. Sent. Him. A. Winky Face.”

          He guided you over to a desk and you sat on it, watching as he sat on another. “Listen, Y/N, as your love guru, I’m telling you to chill out.”

          “Chill out? You did  _not_ just say that to me.”

          “Not the smartest move,” Greg mumbled to himself. “Look, Y/N. You can’t do anything about it now. Forget about it until we’re done with this project. You can’t change what happened, and I really wanna ace this class so…”

          The rope of anxiety around your lungs unclenched slightly as you snorted out a small laugh. “Right. Sorry. I forgot to think of how my crisis would impact your grade.”

          “Glad to know that you’re back on the right back.” Greg winked teasingly at you, then he gasped and held a hand over his mouth. “Oh no! I just winked at you! What if you think it means more that it did? Oh, God, what will I do?”

          “Shut up!” Your laughter grew louder and you shoved at his shoulder, nearly pushing him off the desk. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

          “Because we both want good grades and we’re both incredibly smart,  _plus_  I got you laid last night.”

          Instinctively, you opened your mouth to correct him because he  _had_ to be wrong on one of those points. “I…dammit, you’re right.

          "Come again?” Greg cupped his hand around his ear and leaned closer. “Say that last part again. I don’t think I heard it right.”

          “Hey, since you’re the one who got me laid last night, how about you fix this mess that happened because of it?”

          “I wouldn’t touch that mess with a ten foot pole.” He hopped off the desk and walked towards the door. “But we  _can_  prevent our GPAs from following your love life down the deep, dark, unyielding pit of despair.”

          With a dramatic sigh, you followed him. “Fine.”

          However, he still wouldn’t let you pass. You shot him a questioning glance and he held out his hand in answer. “Gimme your phone. I wasn’t kidding about wanting to ace this class. We need to get a good grade on this project, which means we need you on your A-Game. And, from what I’ve seen, this Peralta guy is  _way_  too distracting for you. So I need to put your phone in time-out.”

          Another good point from Greg. So you relented with a, “Fine.” And, as if on cue, your phone buzzed, indicating another text from Sam. “But let me check this first?”

          Greg nodded just as a second text came through.

**Sam:** If I cleaned it out, there would be nothing left. And an empty fridge is a sad fridge.

**Sam:** Seriously, you need food.

          “Okay. He didn’t say anything about the winky face.”

          “See? Nothing to worry about. Now hand it over.” Greg impatiently waved his fingers at you, motioning for you to put your phone in his waiting hand. As soon as you complied, he held down the power button, shutting it off completely. “Let’s focus on school now, yeah?”

* * *

          “Bobby!” As soon as you heard the front door open, you yelled out to your father to get his attention. “You can’t write off ammo expenses on your taxes. I don’t think the IRS would see that as an acceptable expense for a scrap shop.”

          “I didn’t know that Bobby actually did his taxes,” a deep voice that was definitely  _not_ Bobby’s said. Your head shot up from the old computer you were reviewing Bobby’s finances to see Sam standing in the doorway of the office. He gave you a lopsided smile. “Hey, Y/N.”

          “Sam.” Wasn’t your heart supposed to be beating? And what was with all of this sudden sweating? “What are you doing here?”

          A hunt had pulled him away before you’d even made it home from your study group all those weeks ago, and things between you two were… unreconciled. You had no idea where the two of you stood. Were you friends? With benefits? Something else? Completely over?

          Well, with the way he was smiling at you, you figured you probably weren’t over.

          “We finally got a few days without a hunt, so Dean and I figured we’d come visit. Especially since Bobby told us you were home for the summer.”

          For the longest moment, both of you just stared at each other, not quite sure what to say.  The silence between you grew from all of the unsaid words and weeks of non contact until you finally had to break it. You stood up and started around the desk. “Well, Bobby ran into town to go to the store—”

          “Yeah. We ran into him on our way in. Dean’s with him right now.”

          So it was just you two. Alone. Again.

          “Oh, wait! I almost forgot.” Sam grabbed his shirt behind his head and started pulling it off.

          “What…what are you doing?” You and Sam. Alone. Again. And he was taking his clothes off. Where in the world was this headed?

          “According to you and Dean, apparently it’s my MO to not wear a shirt when I’m here.” He winked and tossed the shirt behind him.

          This teasing undercurrent was something that you could handle. Sure, it was toeing the line between what you’d been before you slept together, and wherever the hell you were headed, but you could handle this kind of teasing.

          “Shut up!” You pushed against his bare shoulder with a grin. “You brought that on yourself.”

          In the blink of an eye, Sam’s hands were on your waist and he’d swung you around until the door frame was at your back and he was looming over you. “Worth it, though.”

          This was the make it or break it moment.

          “We haven’t had time to talk,” you tripped over your words while your fingers tripped up his bare chest.

          You’d been planning this moment ever since Sam texted you that Dean stole him away for a hunt. The entire last month of the semester had been you trying to figure out what you wanted and what Sam wanted and planning the perfect conversation when you were finally reunited.

          But you forgot all of those carefully crafted sentences in that moment.

          “You and me,” Sam whispered. “Yes or no?”

          Eyes shooting up to his, you thought through his simple question. He was so close and the weeks without him suddenly seemed so far away. But there were years of friendship between you two to consider. Years of friendship that could be thrown down the drain if this didn’t work out.

          Or years of friendship that had built a solid foundation for something more. Years of friendship that were just the prologue to the next part of your story.

          Sam shuffled forward and nudged your nose with his. “I vote yes, if that helps.”

          You thought back to that first night. How annoyed and mad you had been that Sam seemed to have given up on you when he thought you were into another guy. How ready you had been to just jump into trying something new and having Greg show you how to loosen up. You’d been ready for something new. You were going to march into that bar and not think about any consequences.

          Sometimes, you thought too much.

          Sometimes, it was better to react.

          Sometimes, jumping right into a scary situation paid off.

          Sometimes, you had to focus on the now and forget about the later.

          Reaching up, you tangled your fingers in Sam’s long hair and pulled his lips down to yours. It was easy to lose yourself in his kiss, and you barely noticed when he wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you completely off the door frame and into his body. He fit against you just like a puzzle piece.

          “What’re you two idjits doing in my office?” Bobby’s gruff voice broke you apart and, right on cue, your face flooded with blush.

          “Well, in the words of famous Brooklyn cop, Jake Peralta, we are now officially  _smooshing booties,”_ Sam answered, not loosening his hold on you  _at all_.

          His Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference made you laugh out loud, taking away some of the awkwardness of your father finding you making out. You’d wondered if he had watched your favorite TV show when he came to class in introduced himself, but asking him hadn’t crossed your mind between all of the distractions and teasing and freaking out that weekend.

          “Whatever y'all are doing, Dean and I could use some help bringing in bags.”

          “We’ll be out in a minute,” Sam said.

          While Bobby walked away, you heard him throw over his shoulder, “Son, if it only takes you a minute, you’re doin’ something wrong.”


End file.
